Help
by kci47
Summary: Olivia is attacked by a criminal with a vindictive streak, and Rafael is the one she's chosen to help her. / BARSON. This fic contains involuntary drug use, addresses issues of dubious consent, and also has so, so much smut.
1. Chapter 1

**[EDITED:] Please be forewarned that this fic plays on a 'lust potion' trope. The issue of consent will be raised, and addressed within the universe of this fic. If you are adverse to reading about sex under the influence, please skip this story.**

* * *

"Lieutenant Benson has been attacked."

The words echoed around the squad room with all the subtlety of a rocket. The silence lasted for the space of a heartbeat, and then all the detectives were clamoring around, demanding to know what had happened and how she was. Chief Dodds held up his hands. "Olivia is...okay," he tried to reassure them.

"I don't like that pause," Fin said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What aren't you telling us?"

Dodds swallowed hard, looking around the circle at these people who cared about Olivia. Who were prepared to defend her until their dying breath.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to wait until—"

The doors to the squad room burst open, and Barba rushed in. "I came as soon as I could. Where is she?"

Dodds gestured to the semicircle of cops. "I was just about to tell the squad that Lieutenant Benson will be fine."

" _Will_ be? As in, she's not currently?" Barba fired off.

"She's been drugged." Dodds decided then to list out the information he had in the quickest, most clinical way possible. "She stopped to help another officer with a run-of-the-mill arrest on her way back from her in-service. Unfortunately one of the onlookers decided to try to level the playing field, and injected her with an unknown combination of drugs. She's at the hospital now for testing and treatment. Again, she _will be fine_." He cleared his throat. "She is pretty out of it at the moment, however. The doctor suggested that she'll need around-the-clock care for at least the next twelve hours as the drugs work their way out of her system."

"I can do it," Barba replied immediately.

"Me, too," said Carisi. Amanda and Fin chimed in that they were available to help as well.

"Thank you all," Dodds said, sincere. "I know Olivia would hate to ask this of anyone."

"I have the fewest obligations," Barba pointed out. "No children, no spouse, no reason I can't take off work the rest of today and tomorrow. I'll do it," he reiterated.

"If you need help..." Amanda offered. Barba nodded once at her.

"I need to get back to the hospital," Dodds said, gathering his belongings. "I thought it was only right to come let you know in person."

The detectives murmured their agreement, and then Amanda passed a scrap of paper with their cell phone numbers on it to Barba. "She's ours," was all she said.

"Call the second she needs anything," Carisi added. Barba agreed and then the two men were headed down the hallway to the elevators. As they exited the building, Dodds directed Barba to his vehicle.

"No driver?" Barba asked, surprised.

"Not today," Dodds answered, jerking his head towards the passenger door to indicate Barba should get in.

As they pulled into traffic, Dodds began his third unwanted conversation for the day. "I wasn't entirely truthful with the squad," he started. To his surprise, Barba didn't immediately jump down his throat. So he continued. "They already know what she's been drugged with, and she needs more than just...babysitting." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You ever heard of PT-141?" Dodds kept his eyes focused on traffic, but he knew Barba had turned to gape at him. "Sometimes they call it the lust potion," he offered helpfully.

"I know what it is!" Barba shouted. "How in the hell—who did this?"

"We're going to find that out," Dodds replied grimly.

Silence reigned in the car as Barba processed this information. Finally, he said, "Bring him to me when you find him. I want him prosecuted under every available law, statute, and guideline of common decency."

Dodds inclined his head in agreement. Then something made him add, "If there's anything left of him by the time our officers get done with him."

"Granted."

Silence stretched again, but this time it was less fraught with tension. At least until Barba worked through the implications of what, exactly, Olivia was going to "need". Dodds knew the exact moment Barba became aware of why Olivia was not _currently_ okay.

Dodds decided to start talking before Barba could back out. "She asked for you, you know. Not today—I mean earlier this year, when we went through emergency protocols. Benson asked for you specifically in the event something like this occurred."

"Who the hell plans for 'something like this' to occur?"

"Lieutenant Benson. And rather thoroughly, as well." He pulled the car up to the curb at the ER entrance, then reached into the back seat and handed Barba a thick file folder. "It's all in there. But Olivia can tell you." He sighed, then placed his hand on Barba's shoulder. "She needs patience and understanding right now. Her doctor can help explain everything better than I can, but, Barba... Be kind."

Barba shook his head, disbelief clear in his expression. He looked up at Dodds with doubt. "What am I supposed to do to help her with this? How can I 'be kind'?"

Dodds removed his hand and sat back in his seat. He stared out the windshield for a long moment and then said, "My suggestion? Give her as many orgasms as you can manage."

* * *

 **A/N: So this is a pretty common trope in the Harry Potter fandom-Character A is dosed with some kind of lust potion-but I wanted to think of a way it might happen in the less-magical world of SVU. I make absolutely ZERO claims that I have any idea what I'm talking about when it comes to drugs and their side effects, so while I have tried to do a decent bit of research here, I'm also asking you to just go with the flow of the premise. :) I like to think you won't be sorry.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't typically do this, but I felt that I must respond to the dear Anon reviewer who trashed everything I've ever written based on one single 1,000-word chapter.**

 **To Guest: I actually DO write SVU. I've watched the show since Season 1. I read other people's SVU stories. I spend time researching and taking notes. I try to stay as generally true to the characters and settings as I can, given that this is, in fact, a work of _fiction._**

 **I wrote that the squad handed over THEIR numbers to Barba, not the other way around. Does he have each of their cell phone numbers? Maybe. But I don't know. Typically the chain of communication is through Olivia, which is why I thought that perhaps he wouldn't have their individual numbers. Either way, it's such a minor detail—who cares?**

 **To your next point, about consent. If your issue is that I didn't appropriately warn for dubious consent and sex under the influence of drugs—then I concede that you're right. I have updated both the summary of the story as well as added an author's note at the beginning of Chapter 1. However, this is merely the intro chapter. If you continue reading—which I guess you will not, since I have so offended you—you will find that I actually have Olivia and Barba grapple with this very issue for at least the next TWO chapters. I have done my best to come up with a plausible way for this story to proceed; but, again, _fiction_. If it isn't your cup of tea, then I do apologize that you stumbled across it. But all you had to do was exit.**

 **And, lastly, your poorly-written and executed assertion that fanfiction is not for me: I humbly suggest that perhaps using the English language to insult people is not for _you_.**

* * *

 _Give her as many orgasms as you can manage._ The words rang in Rafael's ears as he numbly wound his way up to the floor where they were keeping Olivia. _As many orgasms..._

Good god. He rarely even gave her so much as a handshake, and now they wanted him to—? His brain shied away from the prospect.

 _Not_ , it should be noted, because he didn't think of her in that way—but because he wasn't _allowed_ to think of her that way. They were colleagues. Counterparts. Co-conspirators, sometimes. Friends, even, perhaps. But lovers? Never.

Shaking his head, he shoved the door into the waiting area with more force than was necessary. The nurse behind the desk startled as she looked up.

"I'm here for Olivia Benson," he said.

"It's about damn time you got here, Baaaaarba," a voice behind him said. Spinning, he saw Olivia waving away a doctor's hand as she stood unsteadily from her chair. She made for the door. "Let's go, I never want to come here again," she announced. "The service is terrible."

"Ms. Benson, please wait," the doctor ordered. He glanced at Rafael. "Are you her designated caregiver?"

"Yes, I am." Barba began to walk towards them, but the doctor gestured to another doorway off the waiting area.

"We need to speak for a moment. Rachel, can you—?" He pointed at Olivia. The nurse at the desk nodded and jumped up to come over and steer Olivia back into her chair.

"I hope you boys have fun talking about me behind my back," Olivia called as the doctor ushered Rafael into the small consultation room. He shut the door firmly.

"We'll get right to it. As you can probably tell, she's still somewhat disoriented."

"Combative, more like," Rafael muttered under his breath.

The doctor quirked an eyebrow in agreement. "That should wear off fairly quickly. However, I'm sorry to say she was dosed with Bremelanotide Peptide, more commonly known as PT-141. The effects—"

"Yes, I'm aware. Olivia and I work together; I'm familiar with the drug."

The doctor seemed relieved. He folded his hands and leaned forward on his elbows. "I won't lie to you, it's going to be a terrible experience for her. The next ten to fourteen hours are liable to be hell on earth."

"I understand."

"She was offered a sedative but declined. There's really nothing to be done except wait it out. It's best if you can keep her hydrated. Medically, she's healthy as can be—just call if she starts to vomit or attempts to harm herself."

"Harm?!"

The doctor's tension returned. "We often find that individuals who have been given the drug against their will have the urge to hurt themselves, to escape the effects. Ms. Benson seems to be very mentally strong, but I do want you to be forewarned."

"Fantastic," Rafael replied drily. "Anything else I need to know?"

The doctor pushed a small pile of papers towards him. "This is all the medical-ese for the drugs in her system. I'll just give you a quick rundown and then you can take her home..."

* * *

The 'quick rundown' ended up lasting what felt like forever, but in reality had only been about four of the most awkward minutes of Rafael's life. And based on the way Olivia was acting, it had lasted closer to four days.

"So, did the good doctor tell you all about my _condition_?" Olivia drawled as she slouched into the back seat of the cab with him and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. Rafael's own eyes were drawn to the slash in her slacks, which showcased the large white bandage on her thigh.

"What, you mean the one where you're a constant pain in my ass? It seems more like _my_ condition. Or perhaps you were referring to your condition of being stubborn to a fault?" He hoped his tone struck the right balance of joke and put-upon suffering. When he saw her lips quirk, he knew he'd nailed it.

Then she went and ruined it.

"No, I mean the one where I'll be desperately seeking sexual satisfaction for roughly the next—oh, fifteen hours." She heaved a sigh and Rafael felt his heart thump at her misery.

"They told me it was more likely ten to fourteen."

She barked out a laugh that ended on what sounded suspiciously like a sob. "I should have known that an attorney would pay attention to the details."

"That is why you wanted me here, isn't it?" He strove to keep his tone light. But deep down, he wanted to know—why _had_ she picked him in her contingency plans? Why not Carisi, or Amanda? Or, hell, a boyfriend? Someone who knew her outside of work?

The thought that she'd picked him because she was otherwise alone tore at his heart.

"I _wanted_ you here so that when I made plans to murder whoever did this to me, you would be bound by rules of client-attorney confidentiality."

"Good to know the drugs haven't affected your compassionate side."

"Shut up." She whacked him on the arm, but it was half-hearted.

They rode in silence for a while until she recognized her neighborhood and straightened. "I don't want to go home. Barba, let me ride this out at your place. Please?"

She sounded frantic, and anyway, Rafael had no objections. "Of course." He told their cabbie his address. The man nodded but otherwise made no comment. Rafael was sure their driver hadn't overheard any conversation quite like theirs before.

Olivia relaxed back into her seat. "I just—I don't want to go there right now."

"You don't have to justify anything," Rafael assured her.

Their cab driver pulled to a stop in front of Rafael's building, and Olivia rolled out of the car and stood rigidly on the sidewalk. Rafael held out money for payment and slid over in the seat to follow her.

"Good luck, man," their cabbie muttered. Rafael nodded solemnly before exiting the vehicle.

As he held the door for Olivia, and then once they entered the elevator, he noticed that she was taking pains to stay as far from him as physically possible. He tried not to feel dejected—after all, she was in an untenable situation—but it pricked his pride nonetheless.

He let them into his apartment and automatically reached to take her jacket, but Olivia flinched away. She didn't look at him, merely mumbled 'sorry', and Rafael accepted that they were treading in uncharted waters. Deciding not to crowd her, he informed her that he needed to call Carmen and that she was welcome to explore.

He entered his kitchen and heaved a sigh. He was so far out of his depth here—he didn't know what she needed or how he was going to be able to help her get through this.

 _As many orgasms as you can manage._

"Shut up!" he muttered to the Dodds inside his head.

"What?" Olivia called from the living room.

"Sorry—just, uh, stubbed my toe," he replied, shaking his head. This was inane. He and Olivia were close; surely they could manage...whatever this was.

He dialed his office and felt a wash of relief when Carmen answered in her usual crisp manner. "How can I help you, Mr. Barba?"

"I'm not going to be back in the office today, Carmen. Tomorrow either. Please reschedule my appointments and route all my calls to voicemail—yes, that's right, no contact..."


	3. Chapter 3

From her position in Barba's living room, Olivia listened half-heartedly to his conversation with his assistant. She felt a moment of guilt, knowing that he was completely upending his life to take care of her. But she also recognized that she didn't want to be alone just now. She was scared, honestly, and more than a little anxious about how she was going to survive this ordeal.

And horny. Her system refused to let her forget that not-so-little detail.

She made a quick circuit of his living room, then a slower loop, hoping to distract herself. Whatever painkillers they'd given her at the ER were already wearing off, and she could feel the compulsion to have sex rearing its ugly head. She wanted to ignore the impulse while she was still capable of doing so.

His living space was spartan in the extreme. No family photos, no knick-knacks. Hardly even any artwork or décor to speak of. And yet the smooth lines and deep leather furniture suited him. She could imagine him sitting on his sofa late at night, sleeves rolled up and jacket off as he worked. She stroked her hand over the back of his couch and wondered if he ever set down his papers, undid his slacks, and pleasured himself right here—

"Can I get you anything?"

Olivia jumped and yanked her hand away from the furniture.

"Water? Coffee? ...Scotch?" He held up the small glass tumbler in his hand and the gold liquid shimmered in the light.

"I'm fine." She returned to circling his living room, being careful to avoid the area where he was standing. Being trapped in the cab with him had been torture—smelling him, feeling his knee bump against hers when they'd made a turn, knowing that she was coming home with him to be 'taken care of'... When they'd pulled up at his block, she'd catapulted from the back of that car faster than a cat from a bath.

"We both know you aren't 'fine'," he pointed out. Calmly. Rationally. Standing there with his tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up, the watch glinting on his wrist highlighting the sensual manliness of the hair on his arms—

Olivia scowled and pointed her finger at him. "You don't have to be so—so—"

"So right?" he offered, smiling slightly.

"So unbearably smug," she finished.

"Liv—"

"No! You don't understand. I don't—I'm not—I can't control this, Barba. And it's killing me. The helplessness." She paced some more. "They gave me some painkillers at the hospital but it's no match for this. I keep thinking— _things_ ; and every time my arm so much as brushes my side, I get all—tingly." She shuddered.

* * *

Rafael wanted to smile—she was the only person who could make the word 'tingly' sound like an epithet. But she was frantic now, angrily pacing, and he didn't want her to think he was laughing at her. While she continued to rant about losing control and hating the situation they found themselves in, he downed the rest of his scotch. He wondered if he really would need to stimulate her...and how to even go about it. Should he just come out and offer it? Should he wait for her to ask? He had no clue.

She had slumped into his armchair and gone quiet, so Rafael went back into the kitchen to pour another scotch. He figured he might need the courage.

He turned around and nearly fell backwards, surprised to find she had followed him in. "Could I have some water?" she asked politely.

Too politely.

Rafael sighed again. This would never work if they continued to dance around each other. Silently he poured her a glass of water and handed it over. He noticed that she took care not to let their fingers brush.

"Olivia."

She raised her eyes to his for a moment and then glanced away again.

"Liv. Please tell me what to do, how to help. You know I'd do anything for you." He leant back against his counter and waited.

She seemed to be struggling for a reply, and then she too huffed out a breath. Finally she met and held his gaze. "I'm trying not to make this your problem."

"Because?" he prodded.

"Because...because, god, Barba! It's so—I'm so embarrassed. I feel like I'm going to claw my way out of my skin if I don't—if I don't—argh!" She slammed her water glass down on the counter and resumed pacing in his tiny kitchen. "I'm really struggling, here, Barba. There are things I want—that I need—but I can't—" She inhaled deeply. Stopped pacing. Faced him. "I can't ask them of you," she finished brokenly.

He hated seeing her in distress. The nature of their jobs meant that she was often in distress, but usually, there was very little he could do about it. This particular issue, though? He _could_ help her feel better, at least for a while. But he was afraid, too, that once they crossed that line...there would be no going back. No more easy camaraderie, no more shared glances of commiseration across the squad room, no more drinks at Forlini's after tough cases.

He looked at her again, noticing her eyeing him speculatively. She seemed unable to look away from his arms, and then she licked her lips. Barely, but enough. He put voice to the thing they both knew was coming.

"So don't ask," he told her. "Use me."

They were the wrong words. Her openly hungry gaze shuttered and she stepped away from him, back into the living room. She resumed pacing, muttering to herself and occasionally stopping to close her eyes and breathe deeply. He followed her, refusing to let her run away from this.

"Did the doctor explain all the side effects to you? I know it sucks, Olivia, but it's not going to just go away."

She waved a hand dismissively. "He yammered on about it but I mostly tuned him out. I figured, I'm going to live through it, right? I shouldn't have to listen to a complete stranger explain it to me in all its gory detail."

"Well, I did listen. And yes, it was awful. But I think you might feel better if you'll only let me...help."

She glared at him. "You want to spend the next twenty-four hours fucking my brains out, you mean?"

The obscene words fell into the charged silence like rocks into a pond. Rafael fought the urge to throw up his hands and leave her to her own devices. He would have, except he could see the strain at the corners of her eyes. Could see the way she was biting her tongue and clenching her fists as though she could will away the powerful effects of the drug. He knew she was stubborn and willful and very, very rightfully angry... But he also knew she was drowning here.

And so he stood his ground. "Ten to fourteen hours."

For a moment he feared she was going to leap forward and pummel him. Then she shook her head and laughed. "God, Barba. What are we going to do?"

"Do you want to know what Dodds suggested?" She shook her head vigorously and her face turned bright red. "Probably for the best," he muttered. He glanced over to his desk. "I have some files here; we could work?"

She snorted but moved to sit in his armchair. "Fine. What case do we have?"

"Mulroney."

"Delightful."

He set the files down on the coffee table and then left her alone for a moment while he returned to the kitchen for their drinks. Then, thinking ahead, he flipped on the coffeemaker. They were in for a long night.

When he returned to the living area, Olivia had her nose buried in his case files, so Rafael pulled up his email and began composing one to the detectives in charge of tracking down Olivia's assailant. He debated checking himself, scaling back his antipathy—but then he heard Olivia growl under her breath and he let the email fly, curse words and all. Before he could start the next one, however, Olivia threw the papers down on the table.

"I can't do this," she muttered, standing up and pacing again. "I can't...my mind wanders." She twirled her hand in the air and frowned.

"Do you want to tell me about the attack?" he asked, wondering if anger would help alleviate the lust, even if only for a moment.

She laughed once, darkly. She shot him a look as she paced past him. "I know what you're doing. But, fine, I'll play. I caught a call for backup on my way in and I stopped. I almost didn't...I was already running late..."

He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "You can't change it now, Olivia," he said, not unkindly.

"Right. Well. I helped Vasquez pin his guy on the ground, and then the next thing I know, someone's pulled me up and off, shouting about 'that sex cop'. Next thing I know, this guy's running up, wild look on his face. I kicked out at him but that only made them laugh. The one holding me said, 'Don't you have a score to settle with her?' Then this guy—he gets real close to my face. His breath smelled like stale tequila and he snarls, 'Tell your partner Mel said you're welcome', and then I felt him stab my thigh. I thought he'd used a knife, you know? And I was trying to assess the damage while they ran off, but I couldn't see where the fabric had even ripped." She looked down at her leg, only seeming to just now realize she was still wearing the same torn slacks. "I ripped them open myself, looking for a wound. I expected blood. But there was nothing, nothing to explain why I started feeling so...fuzzy."

Rafael sat in silence while Olivia seemed to be lost in memory. He noted the name—Mel—and then set his phone aside. "Do you still feel fuzzy?" he questioned.

Her head snapped up. "Fuzzy? No. I feel..." She chewed on her lip a moment. "I feel hot. Bothered. Over-sensitized. Desperate. I want to climb up the damn wall. And I feel powerless to stop it, and I hate that."

"No, you can't stop it," Rafael said slowly. "But you can choose how to deal with it in your own way, and there's no shame in that, Liv," he finished quietly.

"Just hearing you say my name has me feeling so—" she paused and closed her eyes, "needy."

"So what's holding you back?" he asked, his voice rasping over the last few words.

Her eyes flew open and landed unerringly on his. "I don't know how to ask you for your consent in a way that won't ruin our friendship," she answered honestly.

"You have my consent. If anything, I'm taking advantage of you."

She let out a frustrated growl. Then she marched over to the file folder on his table and practically flung it at him. "Did you even read that?" she asked.

"The file from Dodds? No," he answered.

"Do it," she ordered. She stripped off her jacket, whimpering as she did so, and resumed her pacing.

Rafael pulled out the sheaf of papers and a small brown paper package. Setting the package aside, he began to read the first page.

Then he had to stop, look at her in disbelief, and re-read the first few sentences again. "What—"

"Contingency plans," she said darkly.

Rafael focused on what he was reading. Apparently Chief Dodds hadn't been kidding—Olivia had very clearly lined out what was to happen to her in any number of scenarios that she might find herself in. Kidnapping, torture, and—yes, even drugging. Those, and a dozen other situations. "Who would— _why_?" he finally managed.

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Planning keeps me sane."

"Olivia, I... This is extensive. I'm not sure whether to be awed or humbled. Who makes a plan for the unlikely possibility that they—" he glanced on the next page, "are 'subjected to involuntary sexual acts with a colleague or a stranger in a hostage-type situation'?" He stared at her, aghast.

"I never wanted there to be any question about how to handle me if the worst were to happen," she tried to explain. "I mean, I know at the moment you're wondering if I can really 'consent' to anything, but I already have. I'm here with you because I want to be, given my situation." She pointed at the documents in his hands. "I've outlined every scenario where I might be incapacitated, and I've trusted myself to you in every single one. So if anything, Barba, I'm trying valiantly not to assault _you_."

They stared at one another for a moment and then Rafael looked away. "You could at least call me Rafael," he pointed out mildly.

She laughed, genuine amusement on her face. "You don't have any desire for me to call you Counselor while you get me off?"

"Ah, no," he answered, chuckling slightly himself. As bizarrely intimate as this conversation was, he was pleased to know that their friendship and shared sense of humor was still there. He suspected they would need that solid foundation more than ever when this was over. "So what's this, then? A gift?" He picked up the brown bag.

"I don't know, I didn't put it in there," Olivia answered, her voice drifting as she moved closer to his windows. Her concentration seemed to have vanished again.

Rafael shook out the contents of the package and laughed morbidly. Apparently Chief Dodds had managed to procure two doses of Viagra for him.

How thoughtful.


	4. Chapter 4

**I just wanted to take a moment to say THANK YOU for all the supportive reviews... If I'm really heading down a wrong path I hope you will tell me, but nevertheless THIS is the story in my head and so THIS is what's getting written.**

* * *

Olivia glanced over her shoulder when Barba—that is, Rafael—laughed, but she couldn't see what had amused him so. And, quite frankly, she didn't care—she just wanted him to _stop_ laughing, because the sound of it was twisting her insides up. Although at this point just about everything was ratcheting up her need. Coming here to _his_ domain had probably been a colossal mistake. Her insides had been twisted up from the moment she stepped into his apartment and his scent surrounded her.

Actually, no. She'd been tied up in desperate knots of lust ever since he'd held the building door for her and she'd had to brush past him to enter.

The PT-141 was really doing a number on her brain. She felt like she might actually die if she didn't have some kind of sexual encounter soon; and yet, she was terrified to start, because she feared she'd never stop. Not until she was unconscious or Barba— _Rafael_ —threw her out.

She stared out at the city, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. The bite of her nails had been helping to focus her thoughts, but anymore, the pain was its own sort of pleasure. And she wondered if Rafael ever liked to be rough when he—

"Is that coffee?" she demanded, digging her nails into her palms as hard as she could.

He stood quickly, tucking something into his pocket as he did so. "Yes. I thought maybe it may help, uh, sober you up."

Olivia gave him a look. "I was injected with the liquid form of a drug that is _supposed_ to be sniffed, like a nasal mist. I don't think there's anything that will 'sober me up'." She immediately regretted her words when he looked like a kicked puppy. "But, might as well try, right?" she added in as bright a tone as she could muster. "It's not like I'll be sleeping—" She stopped talking before her brain could go to its logical conclusion of _why_ she wouldn't be sleeping…and why he wouldn't, either.

She followed him into his kitchen, desperately trying not to stare at his ass as he walked. She wanted to put her hands on him, follow the curve of his bum, maybe press him up against his counter and—

"Aaugh!" She reached up and tugged sharply on a handful of her own hair. The pain brought her thoughts back in line temporarily. Except now Rafael was staring at her like he wasn't sure whether to fight or flee. "Maybe some bread, too?" she offered. If it helped soak up booze in the body's system, maybe it would help with this too. She accepted a mug of coffee from him and then tried—and failed—not to watch him stretch and bend as he searched for a suitable carbohydrate. She thought that she'd never before appreciated how well his dress slacks clung to his body. She also wondered if his thighs were furred in the same way his forearms were. She really wanted to lick his thigh, maybe bite him a little...

"You know what, forget it. I'm not very hungry for food." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean, I'm not very hungry. At all. In any way. For anything."

She could tell he was fighting a grin. "Glad we have that sorted," he said mildly.

Olivia looked away and took a huge gulp of coffee. Then another, and another, until her mug was empty. Wordlessly she placed it in the sink and returned to her pacing spot.

It wasn't long before Rafael joined her, matching her strides. They walked in tandem for five circuits of his living room, and then Olivia stopped. "This is ridiculous. I just need..."

"Just _tell_ me. Just let me help," he implored. "Whatever that looks like."

Olivia bit her lip, then regretted the action as it turned her thoughts to biting his lip. And him biting her lip. And him biting her in other places...

"I can see you're struggling, Liv. I may not be your partner, but we have each other's backs. I'm damn well in your corner, no matter what," he told her. "Please. Tell me what to do here, because I'm struggling too."

This was it. The moment where she either pushed him off, again, or the moment where everything changed. Irrevocably, unpredictably, frighteningly...changed.

She stared into his eyes, at his face. The face of one of her closest friends, the person who had worked tirelessly beside her on more cases than she could count. The person she turned to when she was stuck and didn't know what to do.

The person _she herself_ had chosen to help her through situations just like this one.

She took a deep breath. The movement of her shirt against her chest was unbearably stimulating and she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. Another deep breath, and then, "You can take those suspenders off. They're making me angry."

His brows shot up in surprise. "Angry?"

"Yes, angry." She nodded. She reached out and gripped each one in her fingers, pulling them back and letting them go to snap against his chest. "They're making me angry, because they're driving me nuts." She snapped them again, aggressively. She wouldn't allow herself to break their eye contact.

"I see." He swallowed once, twice. "Then I guess I should remove them."

She nodded slowly. "You should." She watched through hooded eyes as he slipped the suspenders off his shoulders, letting them fall to dangle at his sides. He hadn't backed away from her, or moved closer—simply held her gaze and followed her instructions. Maybe this wouldn't be as terrifying as she thought.

"Better?" he asked, and it was nearly a whisper.

She nodded again. Her thoughts were a jumble—her brain was begging her to get on with it already, to simply take his hands and put them where she wanted them, but part of her still resisted. Not because she didn't want him, but because she didn't want him _this way_. She had hoped that maybe one day she'd build up the courage to accept one of his offers for drinks; that maybe one day those offers would turn into dinner invitations, and then more. _One day_.

But thanks to a thug named Mel, that day seemed to be today.

"I won't feel better unless you...touch me." There. She'd done it. The line was crossed, there was no going back, they would simply have to learn how to— "Oh, my god, Barba!"

He surged forward, pressing her back against the wall, not stopping until their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to knee. His hand stroked her neck, down her arm, came to rest on her hip. All innocuous places, really, but for the two of _them_? Those places were momentous.

"I thought we agreed you would call me Rafael," he murmured, his hand kneading her hip and sending joyful tingles radiating throughout her body. She shifted restlessly against him, her brain unable to focus now that it was finally getting the sort of stimulation it demanded.

"Rafael," she whispered, "please."

She trusted him to know what she meant, that she was asking him both for sexual satisfaction and also gentle handling of her emotions. She knew he was honorable, that he would take care of her with every fiber of his being—

And, good god, the man's hands were a miracle. He stroked both hands up her back, over her shoulders and back down her arms; circled her waist and then brought them to a stop just below her breasts. Her skin was on fire in the best way and she was beginning to regret the layers of clothes between them.

"Olivia." His tone was serious, and his hands had stopped their magical stroking, so she bit down on her tongue hard and did her best to keep the sexual haze at bay.

"I'm okay with this, Rafael. More than okay. I trust you." The next words came tumbling out without her conscious decision. "But I will murder you if you don't—start—touching—me."

It was as if she'd opened a dam. His hands were everywhere: caressing her breasts, squeezing her ass, pulling her leg up to hook her knee around his waist. He pressed against her even more and she moaned as she circled her hips against his. He leaned forward and the part of her that she'd hidden deep, deep, deep down rejoiced—he was going to kiss her.

But he had other plans. His hands came back up to cup her breasts, and his hot, wet mouth opened on the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

She cried out as she came.


	5. Chapter 5

Olivia didn't want to open her eyes. If she did, and she was still in Rafael's apartment, and he was still pressed against her, and her eyes were open and it was _real_ —well, she didn't know what she was going to do. If she kept her eyes closed, she could pretend this was a dream. A weirdly horrible dream.

But then Rafael released her breasts and wrapped his arms around her waist in a tight hug, and Olivia amended her thoughts: a _not-altogether-terrible_ dream.

They stood like that for several minutes, Olivia breathing heavily and Rafael not seeming to breathe at all. She held herself rigid, knowing that if she wrapped her arms around him in return, she was going to rev up her engines again. As it was, she felt a temporary relief from the unrelenting sexual tension of the past two hours. She wished it would last, but she knew it wouldn't.

She took a shuddering breath, and Rafael unwound himself from her and stepped back. "Are you...alright?" he ventured.

He looked so uncertain, so vulnerable, and her heart nearly broke. She didn't want him to doubt what he was doing, doubt her trust in him.

"Yes." Her voice caught on the word so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes. Uh...thank you."

"Oh god, please don't," he pleaded. "You can't thank me for this—it's not—" He blew out a breath while he ruffled his hair with his hands. "I see what you mean about this being difficult to vocalize," he conceded.

"You think?" she retorted, but she smiled at him to soften the blow.

"Can we agree to speak plainly and honestly with each other?" he asked. "If you have a limit, say so. If there's something you want, say so. I promise you won't hurt my feelings."

"Same," she murmured. She debated straightening away from the wall, but where would she go? To his bedroom? That seemed terribly presumptuous.

Just then his phone rang, and he left to answer it. He took the call into his kitchen, so she couldn't hear much of what was being said, but he seemed to be reassuring someone that she was fine. As if she could _possibly_ be fine while her body was on fire and her brain was demanding satisfaction?

Already her post-orgasm calmness was receding. She made a quick decision to kick off her shoes and untuck her blouse. She really wanted to shed the torn slacks, too, but she didn't exactly have anything to change _into_ , and still the thought of getting naked with Rafael Barba was an obstacle the rational part of her brain couldn't quite overcome.

The overly lusty part of her brain, though? It couldn't _wait_.

She huffed and let her head drop towards her chest. This whole situation was just so far out of her realm of experience. Only her time with Lewis had been harder than this. And then she considered what she would have done if this had happened to her _before_ Barba had come along. Would she have put the same plans into place, except with Elliot? Nick? Cassidy? She couldn't picture it. She supposed that was very telling, but she shied away from examining the reasons why very closely. She expected there would be hours of introspection and counseling when this was all said and done, but for now, her beleaguered brain just couldn't be brought to focus on anything too serious. All her thoughts eventually looped back to the man in the kitchen, and all the things her ever-so-helpful imagination was suggesting she do to him. With him.

Rafael finished his phone call and rejoined her, looking vaguely surprised to find her exactly where he'd left her.

"Uh, your squad just wanted to know how you were doing," he explained. "I didn't give them many details, just told them you were still recovering but that you would be alright."

"Thanks," she said. They stood there awkwardly. She felt like she was fourteen and on her first date all over again.

"So, you'll have to let me know how much time that bought us," Rafael finally said, referring to her orgasm. He tucked his hands into his pockets and Olivia tracked the motion with her eyes.

"How long has it been?" she asked tentatively.

"I'd say no more than eight minutes?" he ventured.

She folded her lips inward and bit down. She couldn't look at him when she answered, "Thennnn it's bought us about five and a half."

"Well. That's something, then." He rocked back on his heels. Again they stood in silence.

Olivia didn't know how to break the tension. She was worried, and heartsick, and for all his talk, she really didn't know how far Rafael was willing to go. Hell, at this point, she didn't even know how far she'd be asking him to take her.

"Liv. Do you want me to just...take charge? Would that be easier?"

His voice cracked on 'take'. She risked a glance at him and felt her libido come raging back full-force and even stronger than before. Could she let him do that? Could she give herself over to someone so completely? Especially someone she had to continue to work alongside when this was over?

The nervousness and caring plainly displayed on his face sealed the deal for her. This was Rafael. She trusted him. "Okay," she said softly. His eyes widened just a fraction, and she thought he must have been expecting another fight. She wished she had the energy to argue with him, instead, but she was already losing the lucidity that she'd gained after her orgasm. "Uh, I _would_ like to get rid of these pants. Is there something I could borrow? Or just—" she swallowed thickly, "—forget them altogether?"

His eyes traveled down to the gash in her pants and she could feel his gaze like a caress. She clenched her fists against the urge to jump on him, and she noticed him noticing the motion too.

"I have some sweatpants if you'd like them," he offered slowly, "but I expect they'd just end up off you again sooner rather than later." He took a deep breath himself. Then he shocked her by pulling the hem of his own shirt out of his waistband and starting to undo the buttons down the front. "Just evening the field," he muttered, suddenly seeming a bit shy.

Olivia bit back a smile. The blush of pink riding high on his cheeks as he finished unbuttoning his shirt was completely charming her, but she knew he would die of mortification if she said so.

Then again, she supposed it was only fair that he feel a bit of mortification in this whole affair, too.

"I thought you'd have a bit more rhythm with your strip tease," she joked. He was struggling with one of his cuff buttons and she chuckled.

The pink turned to full-on red, and he pinned her with a mock glare. "If you're not nice I'll make you strip me yourself," he warned.

Olivia stopped laughing.

* * *

 **A/N: For those of you who have asked-I still have several more chapters of this story to go!**


	6. Chapter 6

Rafael turned to lay his shirt over the back of his sofa, hiding his smirk as he did so. Trying to fluster the good lieutenant was one of his favorite pastimes, and the threat of making her strip him had certainly flustered her.

Even if it had also served to positively enflame _him_.

He pushed thoughts of her hands on him to the back of his mind. One of them needed to keep their wits about them, and it definitely wasn't going to be Olivia. He kept his back to her as he unclipped his suspenders and set them with his shirt. He slipped his shoes off as well, delaying the point at which he would have to turn and face her.

Bizarrely, he remembered a conversation they'd had once after interviewing a witness at the hospital. He had been a younger man, very fit and tan and in the prime of his life. As they talked, the nurses had come bustling in to check his wounds and change his bandages. When they'd left, Rafael had made a comment to Olivia about it being a shame to mar such perfection, and she'd turned a puzzled look his way. He'd explained that he meant it was a shame such a beautiful specimen of a man was going to be marked with fairly severe scars after he healed—if he survived at all. Olivia had only replied 'oh', and he asked if she really hadn't noticed. "After a while they're all just bodies," she'd muttered darkly.

At the time he'd been taken aback, but as he'd been with the SVU for several years now, he understood. He assumed it was similar for doctors and nurses—humans were, after all, each just a different compilation of similar parts.

Brought back to the present, he wondered if she would look on him just as clinically. Maybe she would even keep her eyes closed, so she didn't have to see him. God, he hoped not. Then again—could he bear to have those huge brown eyes boring into his own while they trespassed so far across their erected barriers?

"Fuck," he whispered. He wondered if the drug was starting to wear off on him, too, since the thought of the word 'erected' caused a...well, similar reaction.

He heard a rustle behind him, and he spun around just in time to see Olivia kicking her ruined trousers away from her. She tugged the hem of her blouse down as far as it would go, her cheeks red but her gaze steady. Shoring up his courage, he approached her slowly. Every step he took, her flush deepened. He didn't stop until he was a hairs breadth away from her, bracing one hand on the wall beside her head. "Hi," he murmured, hoping to calm her nerves.

He could tell she was fighting a smile. "Hi," she answered. Then her gaze fell to the vee of his undershirt. He wondered what she thought when she looked at him: horrified, intrigued, desirous, something else? The _real_ her, that was. Not the drugged version. He wondered what she would do right now if she found herself in this situation with him, minus the involuntary stimulus that had landed them here. Would she already have her hands on him? Would she want Rafael, the man, not Barba, the ADA?

He would probably never know.

Shoving the negative thoughts to the far recesses of his mind, he reminded himself that she had chosen him. She had trusted him. And more importantly, she had asked him to take control.

He leaned forward to kiss her, but at the last minute, he shifted and pressed his lips to her neck, instead. He couldn't quite bring himself to force her across that final line. He figured she would kiss him if and when she wanted. Instead, he pressed tentative kisses up and down her neck, feeling a surge of masculine pride when she whimpered and relaxed back against the wall. Her hands shot out to grab his waist and pull him up against her.

Rafael ran his tongue over what he could reach of her collarbone, then let his hands find the bottom button of her shirt. He slipped it from its mooring and registered the hitch in her breathing. Her fingers were stroking his sides timidly. He undid the next button up, and the next. He kept his mouth working over her neck to distract her, and from the sounds she was making, she didn't mind.

He did get her attention when he reached the button between her breasts. Olivia let her head drop back against the wall and eyed him intently. He saw the emotions at war within her mind, and he was inordinately pleased when the desire won out over the caution. The remainder of the buttons were quick work, and then he spread the sides of her shirt apart.

His Lieutenant wore a pale peach bra and a smattering of freckles that he simply had to trace with his mouth. He bent his head and the moment that his lips touched her skin, she moaned and dug her fingers into his hair, holding him to her. Rafael's burgeoning erection sprung to full mast. He moved his mouth across her chest, reminding himself to go slowly, following the trail of freckles as she ground her hips against his. He kept his hands resting lightly at her sides, not wanting to push her too far too quickly.

But Olivia wouldn't allow him to stay uninvolved. She released his hair to reach behind her and undo the clasp of her bra, shaking her shirt and bra off in one smooth motion that had him hardening even further. She thrust her chest towards him and Rafael complied with her unspoken wishes immediately, leaning forward to lick a trail of fire from one breast to another. He deliberately stayed away from her nipples, wanting to drag this out as long as possible.

Olivia knocked her hips insistently against his, so Rafael lifted one of her now-bare legs up around him and ground against her, as well. She let out the sexiest moan he'd ever heard in his life. So he did it again, and again, moving his mouth over her breasts all the while. It wasn't long before her hands were back in his hair, trying to tug him down to a nipple, but still he resisted. He was going to have to get very, very creative before too long; he didn't want to waste all his available tricks in one go.

He did concede one thing, though, when he slid his hand up her silky thigh and covered her panty-clad mons with his hand.

She came again, nearly yanking out a fistful of his hair as she did so.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to all who are enjoying this fic! And, I'm glad you're finding the humor in it as well.**


	7. Chapter 7

This time Olivia opened her eyes immediately, wanting to see if Barba had been affected at all. He seemed so calm, so in control, that she found herself wanting to make him absolutely lose his mind. Strange, but she didn't recall _that_ being one of the effects of the drug.

She untangled her fingers from his hair and released him. He still looked cool and composed, damn him. At least as much as he could be, standing in his apartment in his undershirt, one of his coworkers wrapped around him like a vine. A very needy vine. She was, however, vaguely horrified to note that his hair was completely mussed—had been put that way by HER hands.

Gingerly she dropped her leg. She felt the same relief from the sexual tension as before, but it was almost worse since she knew the lust would return, and soon. She wondered how long he would continue to get her off through her clothes before he finally gave in and fucked her.

Her traitorous body trembled at the thought.

He was standing there, waiting peacefully, while all these thoughts flew through her head. She was having a harder and harder time reigning in her brain, and she hated it. She wished she could simply cede control of this situation and enjoy the hell out of herself, but there was still a small but persistent remnant of sanity that said fucking Rafael Barba's brains out would be a very, very ill-advised idea. No matter that he seemed to be on board.

Wanting to fill the silence, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Can we put the TV on or something? I hate hearing the sounds...I mean, the sound of my own voice."

One corner of his mouth quirked and he turned to cross the room. Olivia felt the rush of cool air on far more skin than she was expecting—and looking down, she let out an embarrassed squeak. Of course she remembered unhooking her bra in the heat of the moment, but when had she stripped off her shirt? Dear god, where _was_ her bra?

Looking frantically around the room, Olivia finally spied it peeking out from under his coffee table. She crept forward, intent on picking it up, and—

And what? Putting it back _on_?

She stopped, undecided. Maybe the best course would be to just brazen it out. After all—the shirt and bra were already off. His mouth had already been—oh, hell, his mouth had already been on her breasts. All over them except for the one place she wanted his mouth, actually.

 _No big deal,_ she told herself. _You can DO this_. _Stand tall_.

When he turned back towards her, Olivia did her best to look nonchalant. As if she was regularly nearly naked with friends in the middle of the day. Judging by the expression on his face, she missed nonchalant by a long shot.

"Is the music alright?" he asked.

She hadn't even noticed. But she was noticing now—the heavy, throbbing bass of the Latin music seemed to be pulsing in time with certain parts of her anatomy.

"Not really," she answered, surprised by her own blunt honesty. "It's making things worse."

Barba—no, Rafael, she really needed to separate the two—cocked his head as he observed her. To his credit, his eyes stayed on her face. "The harder you fight this, the harder it will be. It's like being strapped to a speeding train—you just have to embrace it, even though it's completely terrifying."

"Right." She shifted uncertainly, not knowing what to do with herself. Well, that wasn't true—she knew what her body and her brain wanted her to do—with herself, with Rafael, with any available person or object, really.

The thought of masturbating while he watched brought a flush to her whole body.

" _That_ seemed like an interesting thought," he commented, watching her intently.

"It was," she replied. And then, because he didn't press her, and because he hadn't taken his eyes off hers this whole time, she added, "Maybe if you're nice, I'll show you."

It did the trick. His eyes widened before dropping briefly to her breasts, and then shot back to meet her gaze. "I'm always nice," he said, a hopeful plea in his tone.

She laughed, enjoying this. Enjoying them.

"You're rarely nice," she countered, taking a few hesitant steps towards him. "But you're usually fair."

"I'll take it," he answered, his voice gravelly as he watched her come closer.

"Mmm," she hummed in agreement. When she was close enough, she reached for his undershirt and pulled the hem out of his waistband. She paused just long enough to take a breath and then she tugged it up and over his head. He lifted his arms to help her, and then she tossed the plain white cotton over her shoulder to join her own shirt and bra. Rafael swallowed hard several times, patiently waiting. She set her hands on his shoulders, let them slide slowly down over his arms. When she reached his hands, she placed them at her hips and stepped into him.

Her breasts pressed up against his bare chest, and she felt her body respond like an electric shock. Rafael's eyelids dropped as he watched her. The emotions swirling around in their green depths was too much for her to process at the moment, so she tucked her head against his shoulder.

"Please help me," she whispered into his ear. "I need you."

Immediately his arms banded around her, holding her tightly to him. Then he was walking her backwards until they were at the armchair, and he let her go only to press her into the chair. The cool leather on her mostly-bare skin was a delight she could honestly say she'd never before experienced.

Then he knelt in front of her, and the chair was forgotten. Her whole body felt warm and tingly and she had so many visions of where this might be going...

"Panties on or off?" he rasped.

Olivia jolted, her body arching nearly out of the chair. She was so, so ready for whatever he had in mind. In fact, her clitoris felt like it was already most of the way to another orgasm, all from the timbre of his voice while he asked about her panties.

She didn't know how to respond. On or off? It was such a simple question, but the consequences of each answer were so complicated and so varied and she just wasn't sure—

"Too slow," he murmured, and then he grasped her knees and pushed them apart. Olivia gasped, a remote part of her brain thankful for the loud music, and then she moaned out loud when he bent his head and ran his tongue from her knee to the spot where her thigh met her pelvis. He huffed a warm breath in the direction of her still-panty-clad parts, and she melted.

That was the best word. Melted.

And now Rafael took the control she had ceded him, opening her legs even wider and latching his mouth over her mons. He licked her through her panties, the sensation of his tongue blunted by the fabric. It was highly erotic, but she wished now that she'd chosen off. Definitely off.

He chuckled against her and she realized she must have spoken the thought aloud. "That's too bad," he answered, "because I'm going to lick you through these panties until you come and beg me to tear them off."

His words, and the feel of him speaking against the most intimate parts of her, rolled her straight through one orgasm and onto another. As she came down from the high, he slowed his ministrations and then leaned back. "I don't hear any begging," he commented. Then he hooked his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pulled them to the side. As he moved forward again, Olivia felt the last shred of her rational brain succumb to the lust.

* * *

 **A/N: So it's actually my 5th anniversary on tumblr ( haughtyhippogriff) and tumblr is where I really fell into the Benson/Barba fanfic world for the first time. Follow me and check out my anniversary post-I'll write you a 500-word drabble with the prompt and pairing of your choice! Thanks for encouraging me to keep writing these two sass-masters.**


	8. Chapter 8

" _I need you."_

The words ricocheted around his head over and over. _I need you, I NEED you, I need YOU._ His ever-hopeful brain supplied its own emphasis.

Meanwhile, he was experiencing sensory overload. The music, the sight of a nearly-naked Benson sprawled out in front of him...the taste of her on his lips and the surreal knowledge that he was kneeling between her thighs, bringing her to climax with his mouth... All of it was threatening to make him dizzy.

He had wanted this for so long—well, not the drugging, never that. But an Olivia Benson that was all-in with him? Absolutely. He had hoped that they might get there one day, but she rarely took him up on his offers for drinks and so he was stymied as to whether he should continue to carefully pursue her or not. Now, however...anything he offered after today would seem tainted, somehow. He _really_ couldn't wait to find this Mel and prosecute the hell out of him.

Then Olivia gripped his hair and tipped her hips up at him. "More," she commanded, and Rafael was more than happy to oblige. He traced his tongue over every inch of her, pressed heated kisses into the creases of her hips, nipped the fleshy part of her thigh. She shifted restlessly on the chair and held his head even more tightly—a sign Rafael took to mean 'hurry up'.

He latched onto her clit and sucked firmly, his fingers digging into her thighs when she arched up. He sucked and licked at her without pause until she was practically shrieking. She couldn't quite seem to get where she needed, though, so he stopped just long enough to lick his own finger and then work it slowly but steadily into her vagina. Her muscles clamped down on him immediately, so he started pumping his finger in and out of her while he returned his mouth to her clit.

This time when she came, she called him Barba.

* * *

Rafael slumped into the sofa directly across from where a sated Olivia was sprawled in his armchair. His cock was begging for release from his slacks, but he did his best to ignore it. This wasn't about him, after all.

"Still alright?" he asked.

Those gorgeous brown eyes opened and found his unerringly. She still seemed a bit dazed, though, an observation which swelled his pride to unreasonable levels.

"I'm sorry I called you Barba," she said.

"I don't care what you call me," he said earnestly. "Just please, don't stop."

She rolled her eyes and sat up, crossing her legs and then trying to figure out what to do with her hands. Eventually she settled on tucking them under her legs. Rafael tried—and failed—not to notice the way this made her breasts sway.

"Don't take this as a criticism," she began, but Rafael was already doing just that. What had he done that she hadn't liked? Had it been too much? Maybe he shouldn't have used his hand... Speaking of which, his finger was still slippery with her essence. _Focus, Rafael!_ He trained his eyes back on hers. "—but do you think we could move somewhere...that isn't a chair?" she finished, sounding tentative and vulnerable.

He smiled slightly at her. "Now you're completely maligning all the wonderful fun that can be had on a barstool," he pointed out.

Her brows rose. "You have a lot of experience with fun on barstools?" she retorted.

"You have no idea." He grinned fully, inordinately pleased when she laughed.

"Perhaps you could—ah, enlighten me. Later. Right now, this old body needs a bed." She flushed, her voice faltering slightly on _bed_ , but he had to give her credit—she seemed to have embraced things. For now. His Olivia was nothing if not courageous.

"You're hardly old," he said, standing and reaching out a hand to help her up. At the last moment, though, he remembered it was the hand he'd used to finger her. He put the finger in his mouth and sucked what was left of her off, removing the digit with a deliberate pop when he was done. Olivia's pupils had dilated to the point where all he could see was black, and she licked her lips as she watched him. God, he didn't have a chance.

Which reminded him. "Why don't you head on back and get comfortable? I'm going to down another cup of coffee first," he told her. In truth, he was going to have some coffee—but only to wash down one of the Viagras. He was going to need all the help he could get. He would neglect to tell her it was courtesy of Dodds, however. She deserved at least that much.

"Don't take too long," she warned him. "That last stretch was good, but I can already feel—" She broke off and shrugged. "Don't take too long," she reiterated.

Then Rafael had the gods-honest pleasure of watching her voluptuous ass sway as she walked down his hallway to his bedroom.

* * *

 **A/N: A bit of a short chapter, but it was the best break point I had. Thanks to all who are reading and I hope you are enjoying it!**


	9. Chapter 9

After downing his coffee and the little blue pill—and praying the combination didn't send him into cardiac arrest—Rafael ventured down the hallway to join Olivia. She hadn't turned on any lights, but the blinds were open and provided more than enough to see by. She was sitting uneasily on the edge of his bed, her hands linked together and her eyes roving everywhere except in his direction.

He didn't say anything, simply carried his discarded clothing over to the hamper and dumped it in. He proceeded to remove his socks, and then he reached for his belt buckle.

Behind him, Olivia made a strangled sound.

He made quick work of his belt and then, shoring up all his courage, he undid his trousers and stepped out of them. He elected to keep his boxer briefs on for the moment. Assessing his erection situation, he decided it wasn't rampant enough at present that it would startle her, so he turned to face her.

Seeing her on his bed, however, in nothing more than her panties and an expression of need had him hardening right back up again. And he couldn't even blame the Viagra.

"How much time?" he asked, inwardly cursing the raw need in his own voice.

She shook her head, and his cock twitched in happiness. Olivia scooted back ever so slightly, and then she laid down. "I think...you were supposed to make me beg?" Her voice was throaty and similarly raw.

Rafael actually swayed where he stood. He had to steady himself with a hand on his dresser. He never wanted to forget this moment for the rest of his life—even if Olivia never spoke to him again after this.

"Has everything been...to your liking?" he managed, drawing closer to her after the room stopped swirling.

She looked up at him with an expression of disbelief. "I may not be completely mentally acute right now, but even _I_ heard myself moaning your name back there." She jutted her chin towards his living room.

"If you're using phrases like 'mentally acute', I'd say you're not actually in bad shape," he pointed out. Then some kind of inner devil took over and he decided to tease her. "In fact, I don't even know if you need me," he said, backing up and leaning against his dresser. He made a show of glancing down at his fingernails and appearing bored. "You can probably do whatever you need to do yourself."

Olivia propped herself up on her elbows and glared at him. "You just want a reason to watch me touch myself," she accused.

Rafael shrugged one shoulder. "Your words, not mine."

"Argh!" She grabbed one of his pillows and flung it at him. Laughing, he caught it and flung it right back, then advanced on her while she was trying to shove her hair out of her face.

Leaning over her, he braced himself with his hands on either side of her hips. "You sure you won't touch yourself for me?" he cajoled softly. "I can't imagine ever witnessing anything sexier."

She stilled. "That's not fair," she practically whimpered. "You're just supposed to—to get me off. You aren't supposed to, to— _seduce_ me!"

"Says who?" he countered, and then he was on top of her, bearing her down into his mattress. He wedged one of his knees between her legs and shifted his balance so he had a hand free to trace circles around her nipple. He made sure to carefully enunciate each word so she could not mistake his intent. "I'm going to lick your breasts, Olivia, until you want to explode. Then I'm going to run my tongue all the way down your body to your clit, and I'm going to devour your pussy until you've come so many times that you can't remember your own name."

"Oh, my god," she panted, and banded her arms around his waist with an iron grip. "Yes, please, Rafael," she added.

Rafael had never been happier to keep his word.

* * *

Nearly forty minutes later, Rafael climbed up onto the bed and collapsed next to Olivia. He didn't think it was possible, but he had actually lost count of how many orgasms she'd had at this point. It was nearing ten, he thought. All with just his hands and mouth. And he had yet to lose his own control once. He wanted to pat himself on the back, although his sixteen-year-old self was wondering what the HELL he was waiting for.

Beside him, Olivia was panting, her eyes closed and her beautiful body gilded by the late evening light. He wished he could know what was going on inside her head—not what the drugs were telling her, he had a pretty good idea what _that_ would sound like—but what she, Olivia Benson, was thinking right at this moment.

Then her eyes opened and met his, and he revised his opinion. He was afraid to know.

"As wonderful as that was...I don't think it's enough anymore..." He saw her swallow and she looked embarrassed, but she forged ahead anyway. "I think maybe it's time...if you're okay with it...to move on to sex."

"I'm okay with it," he tried to reassure her, but even to his own ears it sounded extremely self-serving. _Sure, hot chick, I'll have sex with you for your own good!_

His hand flexed into a fist when he thought of all the havoc that some punk named Mel was wreaking in his life.

He sat up and moved off the bed. Rummaging in his dresser drawer, he pulled out a mostly-full box of condoms. He supposed he could thank Olivia herself for destroying his interest in any other women lately, but then again, he wasn't sure it would do either of them any good to tell her just now.

He took out two condoms and returned to the bed. He gestured to her panties. "Can I...?"

In answer she simply lifted her hips, so he grasped the sides and dragged them slowly over her legs. It was hands-down the most erotically and emotionally intimate moment of his life, as well as one of the most terrifyingly momentous. He was _removing Olivia Benson's panties_ and this was real life. He shook his head, the idea too big to wrap his brain around fully.

He made quick work of his briefs and chanced a glance at her face. She was staring intently at his cock, one hand idly inching towards her clit. He wondered if she even realized she was doing it. He doubted it.

Reaching for her before she could reach her clit herself, he stroked her enough to know that she was wet and ready for him. That knowledge nearly brought him to his knees, but he firmly reminded himself that this was out of her control and it had nothing, _absolutely nothing_ , to do with her true feelings for him.

Even that bitter reminder wasn't quite enough to completely cool his ardor. She was magnificent, sprawled on his bed, her hair splayed out behind her. He rolled on the first condom, then the second. He needed to dull the sensations as much as possible if he hoped to last long enough to give Olivia some relief from her symptoms. She watched his movements with her lower lip caught between her teeth, and Rafael had the insane urge to bite her, everywhere. But he wasn't sure what her comfort level might be with that, so he shoved the urges to the dark recesses of his brain.

He rejoined her on the bed. "How do you want this to go?" he murmured, reverently shaping her breasts with his hands.

She shifted on the bed, making room for him. "I don't care as long as it _goes_ ," she pleaded, eyeing his cock again. He could practically see the wheels turning—knew she was putting together the reasons for his doubling of protection—but then he could see the moment when the PT-141 decided things had been delayed long enough.

She reached for his shoulders and pulled him over top of her. She raked her nails down his back—the first time she'd _really_ touched him other than to hold him to her—and he was lost. He swooped down to tongue one nipple, then the other. He let his fingers play at the entrance to her vagina for just a moment and then he settled himself between her legs. He took a deep breath—and then paused.

"Olivia." He waited until her eyes focused on his face. "I just want you to know that I've—I've wanted to do this with you before today." It was as close as he could come to an admission of his desire for her, but he felt it was important that he say it now. Before they leapt into the abyss.

"Me too," she moaned, sliding her hands to his ass and lifting her hips up towards his. He struggled to hide his disappointment—he was certain she was only saying it in the moment. Or that she wasn't even really aware of what she was saying. Or, worst of all, that she hadn't understood what _he_ was trying to say. _I love you!_ his brain shouted, but he kept his lips clamped firmly shut.

He dropped his head briefly. He _had_ to remember that this was one thousand times worse for her than for him...that it wasn't her fault that he hadn't told her before now...that he couldn't place these expectations on her when she was not fully herself. _Get a grip_ , his rational mind told him. _Give her as many orgasms as you can,_ the Dodds in his head countered.

At least the intrusion of Chief Dodds brought Rafael back to the present and stopped his wallowing.

"Get ready," he warned her—or perhaps himself—and then he slid inside her.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello lovely readers! Thanks for your reviews. I hope you are still enjoying this fic.**


	10. Chapter 10

Even with two condoms on and the Viagra hopefully beginning to work its magic, Rafael nearly lost it at the feel of her vagina surrounding his cock. He stilled, wanting to absorb these feelings as much as possible. He glanced down at her and only then realized his mistake: there was no way he was going to last very long if he had to watch her pleasure play out on her expressive features. So he tried to focus on a rhythm—nice and slow—but Olivia was making inarticulate sounds and digging her nails into his ass, trying to speed him up. He pressed in and out of her in time with the music coming from the front room, reminding himself that the longer he could make this last, the more rest she would be able to get.

Olivia was not inclined to help him, however.

"Come on, Rafael," she pleaded, thrusting her hips up every time he entered her.

It was all he could do not to completely ravish her, so he didn't respond, simply kept pace with the music and stared at a spot just above her head. The whole experience was like a joyful sort of agony, and he only hoped that she didn't manage to wear him out before her drug wore off. In fact, it was his hope to wear _her_ out so they could both mentally reset.

"You're killing me," she rasped in a moment of clarity, trying to twist around and take control of the pace. Rafael risked a glance at her and then closed his eyes tightly.

"No, _cariño_ , _you're_ killing _me_ ," he muttered under his breath. She managed to get one of her legs hooked over his hip and Rafael nearly lost it then and there. He had to shift positions so that he could keep up his slow and steady claiming of her. With her leg around his waist and his pelvis brushing her clit as he thrust, she was mentally gone again, lost in her haze of lust.

He sped up as she neared another climax, and he didn't stop while she rode it out. He bit his lip, hard, when his own release sprung up on him and he wanted to cry out her name. However, he didn't want to project any of his feelings on her. He gradually slowed his ministrations, but kept thrusting as she kept rising to meet him. When he would have backed off completely, she freed her other leg from between his and locked her ankles at the small of his back. "Not done with you," she mumbled, and Rafael's heart kicked rapidly. His erection firmed right back up again, and he found that he was sorry he would never know if it was because of Olivia or the Viagra. He liked to think it was all due to her effect on him, but he doubted he'd ever have an opportunity to prove it.

He leaned forward more until their faces were aligned, and he waited for her eyes to open and hone in on his face. "I'm a long way from done with you, too," he promised, and then he fell on her, licking and kissing her neck while he pumped his hips into her. He let his hands go wherever they wanted; Olivia was moaning loudly and urging him on. Somehow he managed to get her through another orgasm or two as he reached his second.

Finally rolling to the side, he threw an arm over his eyes and waited for his heart rate to slow. He prayed that her string of releases would buy them some time. He knew they both needed it: she because she had to be exhausted, and he because...well, because otherwise he was going to have a hard time remembering that this was temporary. Out of either of their control. A symptom, not a cause.

As he was in the middle of this internal lecture, he felt Olivia shift on the bed. The loss of heat suggested that she'd moved away from him and he tried, oh he tried, not to let that bother him, but it did.

Taking one more deep breath before facing the music, he let his arm drop and he rolled to face her. She was curled in a ball with her back to him, and her shoulders were shaking. _Shit_.

He cleared his throat. "Olivia?" he ventured.

A muffled sob was his only answer.

His spirits sinking even lower, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair. Then he stood and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condoms. He found a terry cloth robe in his linen cabinet and draped it over her when he re-entered the bedroom. He set a glass of water and a box of tissues on the nightstand. Wordlessly, he pulled on an old pair of flannel pants and left to brew some more coffee. He rummaged in his cabinets until he found some suitable granola bars, and then he was out of tasks to procrastinate on. He brought the tray with the granola and coffee back into the bedroom and set it on the dresser. "Are you hungry?" he questioned, but again there was no answer. He wanted to pick her up and hug her, but he thought maybe she needed some space for the moment. "I'm going to..." Since he couldn't think of anything that he was going to do, he simply left it at that and removed himself to the living room. He turned down the volume of his speakers, but he didn't turn them off. Somehow her crying into the silence would seem so much worse. He sat on his sofa and stared unseeingly at the wall for goodness knows how long. There were so many emotions to process—he hoped the department sprung for counseling for him, and maybe some time off. He knew Olivia would be receiving therapy after this for sure.

It felt like an eternity, but he guessed that about ten minutes had passed until the crying abated. He waited another two and then deemed it safe to return. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Olivia. Debating, he finally decided to rest his hand on her shoulder. "Olivia? Can you tell me what's wrong? What did I do?"

He didn't really expect her to answer him; but he _certainly_ hadn't expected her to throw off his robe and leap out of the bed so that she could pace. He was startled to see the anger in her face.

"What did you do? What did _you_ do?" She gripped the hair at her temples with both hands. She was extremely distraught, and he was caught off-guard, so he just sat and stared at her. " _You_ didn't just rape your best friend! _I_ did! God, I'm just like my fath—"

He didn't even pause to consider; he just jumped up and clapped a hand over her mouth. "No. **NO**. Olivia Benson, you are nothing like your father, and I won't hear any more of that."

She tried to speak behind his hand, but he just pressed more firmly and glared at her. "You know I don't tolerate nonsense. Not in my court, not in here. We've already discussed this. I'm here to take care of you and I would never— _never_ —consider you a rapist. So you can just quit it right now."

She surprised him again when she actually seemed to be still, to listen. Then he recognized the light that entered her eyes right before her tongue darted out to lick the seam of his fingers. She looked surprised at herself too, and Rafael sighed. "If anything, Olivia, I'm the one who—"

A sharp nip on his fingertips had him drawing back his hand. "Hey!"

"Shut up, Barba," she said, her voice husky. "We've been over that, too."

They stared at each other for a long moment and then surged together as one. Olivia's mouth landed on his neck and Rafael's cock sprang right back to attention as if the last hour hadn't happened. He filled his hands with her breasts, squeezing firmly, and she moaned into his ear. Then she started nipping up and down his neck and shoulder, her bites becoming more and more firm with each passing one. He growled as he lifted her up and pinned her between himself and the wall. She looked down at him from her vantage point, her pupils so dilated her eyes appeared nearly black, and her breath coming in quick pants. She reached for one of his hands and brought it up to her mouth, placing a single light kiss to his palm.

"Will you...can we try some things that I, um, might not normally—?"

"Anything," he vowed, and he meant it. Olivia must have realized it too because she flipped his hand over and bit the side of his palm, hard. Then she placed his hand over her mouth and nudged her hips against his, using her actions to convey her desires rather than her words. He suspected she'd managed all the words that she could. Perversely, he hoped that by the end of this, he could get her to tell him outright what she wanted—no shame, no guilt, just pure sexual desire. But for now, this would work.

He set her down just long enough to roll on two more condoms, and then he hoisted her back up and positioned himself at her entrance. He looked up at her beautiful face, and then clamped his hand over her mouth as he thrust fully inside her, hard.

He felt her shriek behind his hand, and the bite of her nails digging into his shoulders only spurred him on. He made sure he had a good hold on her with his free hand, and then he pounded into her for all he was worth. For her part, Olivia continued to alternate biting his hand and crying out her pleasure until her climax arrived not long after they started. Rafael pulled out, mentally relieved that he had staved off his own orgasm, but physically feeling the loss of her warmth like a blow to the gut.

He also felt like he'd won a medal of honor when he laid her down on his bed and saw the sated smile she gave him right before she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope I did this scene justice for you all. I also hope that I'm managing all of Rafael's conflicted inner feelings in a way that's not boring the crap out of you! I try not to write my sex scenes where it's like "Person A puts Part Y into Person B's Part Q" but I don't want to drag down the action with TOO much introspection, either.**


	11. Chapter 11

Rafael was too keyed up to sleep, but he did clean himself up and then go lie down on his couch. The sun had set sometime during their last go-round, and now Rafael stared out at the Manhattan skyline as the music soldiered on softly in the background. Despite not reaching his own release, he was surprised to find that he hadn't felt this sort of contentment in a long time. It had less to do with the sexual escapades—although those had been amazing—and more to do with the woman who was currently asleep in his bed. Who had trusted him enough to let herself be brought here, placed in his care.

Which was why it sucked all the more that after she felt better, he would never experience this level of contentment with her again. He couldn't; it wasn't fair to her to put her in a situation that stirred up awful memories of the day she was assaulted, and unfortunately, all the sex she was having with him would be inextricably tied to the attack in her mind.

 _Mierda_ , his brain was getting tired of going around and around this. He needed to do a better job of separating the temporary physical closeness from his desires to be emotionally closer.

In fact, he probably needed to back off from her emotionally after this, as well. Just to give her some space from his presence and the memories he evoked, until enough time had passed that she wouldn't flinch when she saw him. Except...would she then think that he was repulsed by her, disgusted with what they'd shared? That was the complete opposite of how he felt, so perhaps he should just keep things status-quo between them...

"Rafael?"

The soft way she said his name brought a pang to his heart. He sat up and saw her standing in the doorway, one shoulder resting on the wall. She had wrapped his robe tightly around her, but she was still the sexiest sight he'd ever seen. He couldn't believe he had wasted so much time fighting his attraction to her, and now his hopes of one day having a future together were irrevocably dashed. He schooled his features, however, so she couldn't see how morose he'd become while she'd rested.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?" he asked, unsure how long she'd been asleep.

"I'm alright. For now." Slowly she crept into the room and took the armchair, tucking her legs up under her as she did so. He relaxed back into the sofa, unsure if he should fill the silence or let it be. Certainly she wouldn't want to hear that having sex with her had been the absolute highlight of his life.

She seemed uncomfortable, however, so he opted for a joke. "So, I'm your best friend, hmm?"

She rolled her eyes and a small laugh escaped her, but he was pleased to see some of the tension leave her shoulders. "Stuff it."

"Your _numero uno._ "

"It's hardly a prize," she retorted, some of her usual spunk returning.

"Says you." He shot her a grin as he stretched and tucked his hands behind his head. "In all actuality, it's probably a sad state of affairs for _you_ , but you won't get a complaint out of me. You're my best friend, too, for what it's worth."

She smiled at that, but then her expression fell. Rafael's amusement faded too—if this incident and its repercussions caused him to lose his best friend, then he was going to have to reconsider his line of work. It had already cost him so much.

He shook his head and stood up, preparing for another round of sweet torture. "Do you need me—?"

Olivia's shoulders slumped. "Yes," she answered, standing as well. Then she pressed her lips into a line and seemed to firm her resolve. "Only, Rafael—I get the feeling that you're holding out on me, somehow." She seemed to realize how that sounded, because she quickly amended her statement. "Emotionally, that is. God knows you've outdone yourself physically—I mean, I, um, well—" She broke off and blew a stray lock of hair out of her face. "I know that's going to go straight to your already-inflated sense of ego. All I'm saying is that it seems like there's some kind of barrier still."

"A barrier?" he asked. He hated to think that he had hurt her, somehow, but he also needed to preserve his own sanity. If he came off a little aloof in the process, well, that was a small price to pay for the sake of their future friendship.

A tiny frown line marred her brow. "Yes. A barrier. The first time, you wouldn't even—you didn't even look at me," she ended on a whisper. She shifted restlessly and her eyes got angry. "And I'm getting to the point again where I don't care and I don't want to talk anymore, but after that's over—I'm still going to feel like you're holding back."

His guilt surged to the forefront, because she was right. And lord help him, but he'd hurt her feelings in the process of trying to protect himself. But surely she could understand? "Liv, I know that anything I say right now is probably suspect and obviously not admissible in the course of our regular lives, but I find you extremely attractive. So much so that if I were to look at you while we were being intimate, I couldn't, ah, provide you with what you need from me." There, that was relatively diplomatic.

But Olivia looked furious. "Provide me with what I need? Like some kind of mechanical stud? If that was _all I needed_ , I would have listed anyone on those contingency plans. Hell, I would have just bought a vibrator and headed on home to _provide_ for myself." While he tried not to let those images take over his brain, Olivia began to pace again. "I thought we agreed to be open and honest, Barba. I asked for you because I thought we had the potential for more, even if this is hardly the way I wanted to go about it. I'm not saying we need to make soul-shattering, passionate love, but you could at least look me in the eye while you fuck me!"

Her voice had risen until she practically yelled the last few words. They both flinched at the fading echo of the obscenity. He didn't know how to respond, which was rarely the case for him, but he sensed the need to tread lightly here. "You called me Barba again."

She grimaced. "It's habit to say that name when I'm angry."

He tilted his head. _Point taken_. "If you want more eye contact, I can certainly—"

"It's not a set of instructions!" she interrupted. Her pacing sped up. "I just want—there needs to be—can we just indulge in the emotions that come with this, too, and deal with the aftermath later?" she pleaded.

He hesitated, and she picked up on it. "What are you so afraid of, anyway?" she flung at him, stopping to place her hands on her hips.

Rafael felt his control, on a thin tether at best, finally snap. He pointed a finger at her. "You want to know what I'm scared of? Well, Lieutenant Benson, let me tell you. I'm terrified that when this is over and your mind is your own again, you will hate me for what I've done. You can say whatever you want; your papers and your plans don't _really_ constitute consent right _now_ , and you and I both know it. So you want to know why I'm afraid? I'm afraid that an Olivia in full control of her faculties will happen to agree. And then I'll be losing my best friend, _again_." He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling both vulnerable and angry, himself.

Olivia's jaw worked as she glared at him, clearly trying to decide whether she ought to rip his head off first, or start by tearing him limb from limb. In the end, it didn't take her long to decide; she stormed up to him and slapped him across the face, hard. His head snapped to the side and he took his time turning back to face her, prepared for another blow.

Instead, she grumbled, "You are the _stupidest_ smart person I've ever known," and then threw herself at him. He had no choice but to catch her, lifting her up and pulling her in close to him. She locked her legs around his back and shoved her hands into his hair, pulling his head back and attacking the side of his neck with her teeth and tongue. He staggered backwards under the assault, falling onto the sofa with her in his lap. His hands were full of Benson and her hands were busy skating over every inch of skin that she could reach. She made short work of her robe and his tshirt, and then she sat back to reach for the ties on his flannel pants.

"Olivia," he warned her, but then she had freed his erection and he lost his train of thought entirely. His head fell back against the sofa as she gripped him. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life and Olivia wasted no time bringing him nearly to the breaking point. He circled her wrists and pulled her hands away. "Let me grab—"

"No," she growled. She shifted on his lap, positioning her knees at his sides and rising up. He barely realized what she was about to do in time.

"Olivia. Liv! We need condoms," he said, struggling to hold her hips away from him. She was stronger than she looked, though, and he was losing the battle. He could barely watch her glorious body coming closer and closer to enveloping his cock without threatening to lose control.

"No condoms," she panted, swatting at his hands.

"We can't—"

"I can't have kids," she said on a gasp as the tip of him brushed her folds. "And I don't want any more barriers," she whimpered.

Christ. How was he supposed to deny her?

He released her hips and she sank onto him, both of them groaning at the sensation. Rafael would have sat still for a moment, absorbing the feelings, but Olivia had passed the point of no return and began to circle her hips on him, occasionally rising up until he was nearly out of her and then sinking all the way back down. It was driving him mad with passion and he didn't know how much more he could take. From that point on, their only conversation involved urgent directions—his, begging her to slow down—and breathy praise—hers, telling him how good he felt.

This time, they came together, and Rafael had the strongest sense of finally being home.

* * *

 **A/N: I chuckle every time I think about Olivia associating feelings of anger = Barba.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Am I crushing you?" Olivia asked him afterwards.

Rafael was still reeling from the effects of what had just occurred, so he didn't even open his eyes when he answered, "It doesn't matter. I think I'm dead."

Olivia smiled against his shoulder and stayed put, slumped against him. He brought his arms up to wrap around her waist, but once that was done, he was content to never move again. He dozed off, returning to half wakefulness any time she shifted, and he assumed that she was napping as well. At some point, he shifted them so that they were lying down side by side on his couch, and then he was unconscious.

He was awakened sometime later when Olivia squeezed his bicep. "Rafael?" she whispered, her hand beginning to slide up and down over his arm.

Wordlessly, he pulled her leg up and over his, nudging himself forward until his cock probed the slick folds of her labia. She sighed happily when he sank into her, and he set them on a languid pace that she quickly objected to.

"Faster, please," she begged him, tilting her hips forward and using the leg thrown over his side to pull him more snugly against her.

He was helpless to deny her, so faster he went, gripping the globes of her bottom as he pumped into her. The angle wasn't ideal for the kind of quick fucking that she wanted, but he was able to maintain his consistency, and it was driving her wild. He repressed a grim smile when he realized he was already familiar with the sounds she made as she approached her climax; frantically he tried to keep a clear mind so that he could drive her over the edge several times before he had to stop.

She had other ideas, though. Reaching down between them, Olivia slipped her fingers down to her clit, rubbing eagerly as he thrust. She was moaning and insensible to her surroundings; Rafael had the fierce urge to press his lips to hers, to claim her in all ways, but he buried his face against her neck instead. When she cried out her second release, he let go of his tenuous control as well, latching his mouth onto a spot on her collarbone as he came. Idly he wondered how many other marks he would leave on her body by the time they were done.

* * *

They staggered down the hallway and collapsed into his bed, Olivia falling asleep immediately and Rafael not far behind. When she woke him again, his beleaguered penis tried its best to stand at attention, but just couldn't do it. Rafael spent several minutes with his face buried in Olivia's breasts, hoping the Viagra had one last magic trick to pull, but in the end, he pressed two fingers inside of her while he licked her clit in order to give her release.

She slept fitfully after that—he tried to get creative with his hands and mouth, but there was only so much he could do while they waited for his blood flow to recover. After bringing her off with his fingers a third time, he was ready to wave the white flag. His wrist was beginning to protest and his jaw was likely the next part of his body to give out.

Olivia watched him roll out of bed and rummage around in his dresser. Finally finding what he was looking for, he turned to face her and held it up.

"How do you feel about toys?" he questioned.

Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Why the hell do you have a dildo?" she asked instead.

He tilted his head as he considered his answer. "Do you really want to know?" Olivia's head was already shaking: _no_. He grinned. "If it's any consolation, I haven't used this on anyone yet."

"Again, why... You know what, never mind." Olivia propped herself up on one arm to watch him approach. She bit her lip and eyed the toy, looking slightly concerned.

Rafael reached the edge of the bed and stopped. He passed the dildo back and forth between hands a few times and then offered it to Olivia. "It only looks intimidating. I'll go slow until you get used to it. If you're interested, that is."

She didn't take it from him, just kept staring at it. He reflected in hindsight that the bright purple version may have been a bit much. He'd had a flesh-toned one several years ago, but he hadn't liked the visual aesthetic when he'd used it with that long-ago lover. Bright colors made a much bolder statement when they were sliding in and out of someone.

And then he was thinking about the brilliant purple cock slipping into Olivia, and miracle of miracles, his own erection returned with vigor. He turned to set the dildo down on his dresser and said, "You can think about it while I make you come."

When he turned back to Olivia, her eyes were glassy with need and a flush was spreading over her face and chest. Rafael shucked off his pants and crawled onto the bed with her, urging her up to her knees. He kissed a trail from her cheek to her neck and then down one arm to her fingertips, sucking two of her fingers into his mouth. She moaned and swayed towards him, but Rafael popped her fingers out and moved behind her. "Use those on yourself," he murmured into her ear before pressing her shoulders forward. Olivia fell to her hands and looked over her shoulder at him questioningly. "Rub your clit while you imagine that dildo inside you," he coaxed. She turned back to face his dresser and pressed her hips back against him eagerly. For a moment he was absolutely floored by her trust in him; he wanted to let her know that she could always trust him to take care of her, but he stayed the impulse. Now was not the moment.

Instead, he prodded her legs further apart with his knee, and then he positioned himself at her entrance. He gripped her hips and mentally prepared himself, trying to ratchet down his own need. He wanted to take her, in the most primal way. He wanted to brand her skin and he wanted everyone to know that she was _his_. But he also wanted them to simply survive however many hours were left of this mess, and the more she could sleep, the better off they'd be. Which meant he needed to keep himself in check, no matter how sweet her ass was when it rubbed against him.

He pressed forward, entering her as slowly as he could manage, keeping her from controlling their pace with a firm grip on her hips. Olivia whimpered and tried her best to hurry him up, but every time she pressed backwards, he withdrew a little. He knew it was driving her crazy, but he also knew that the best kind of gratification was of the delayed variety. So he refused to let her rush him this time. It was hard enough for him to keep his concentration when the very act of taking her from behind was pushing him to the brink.

"Touch yourself," he commanded her, his voice hoarse with the effort of not taking his release. Olivia shifted as she followed his direction immediately, placing one hand at her clit. It took every last bit of his restraint not to just pound away when she choked out a groan. He forced himself to go even more slowly, and in return, Olivia sped up her own ministrations.

"I hate you right now," she said. Rafael didn't even stop to think—he just lifted his hand and brought his palm down on her backside.

They both froze as the echo of the slap faded. Then Olivia made a sound he hadn't heard from her before—a sound of raw need—and took advantage of his shock to slam herself backwards on his cock. She had impaled herself a few times before his brain finally started functioning again. She was racing towards her orgasm and his only thought was to delay her as long as possible, even if it killed him.

So he smacked her again, this time on the other cheek. "I set the pace," he informed her. He thrust into her once, hard, and then whacked her a third time. "Not you," he panted.

"Oh, my god, please," she hissed, and twisted her hips to try and get some more friction. But Rafael was finding his footing now and he wasn't about to let her win this one. They'd done it her way every other time; this time, _he_ was going to drive them.

He set a firm, steady rhythm of thrusts, interspersed with light smacks to her bottom. Each time, Olivia whimpered. Before long, she'd had to stop touching herself and use both hands to brace against the bed. Rafael allowed himself to speed up, knowing he couldn't last much longer, but he would be damned if Olivia got there before he was ready for her.

So he spanked her again, this time with a bit of force.

Her head snapped up and their eyes met in the mirror above his dresser. "You don't come until I tell you to," he said, and the effect on both of them was immediate. Olivia went wild, shoving her hips backwards at him, and Rafael finally lost his control. He pounded into her for all he was worth, spanking both sides of her delectable ass with abandon. She was incoherently babbling, but his sense was that she was begging him to let her finish. He had knocked her forward on the bed, so he shifted forward as well. Olivia was gripping the edge of his mattress, her knuckles white, her eyes locked on his in the mirror. He braced himself as best he could and then pistoned into her with the last of his energy, finally ordering her, "Now!"

They both shuddered violently as her inner muscles gripped him, hard. When the spasms had passed, Rafael slipped out of her and fell backwards on the bed, perversely pleased by the bright red of her derriere as he did so.

* * *

 **A/N: I keep thinking I'm getting close to the end of this story, and then these two keep interfering. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Rafael stared up at his ceiling, his mind still reeling. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to spank her. She'd seemed like she liked it, though.

He turned his head and studied the woman lying next to him, trying to catch her breath. Her cheeks were a rosy pink and her hair was spread out on his pillow. She was panting and sweaty and she had never looked more beautiful to him. The image made him ridiculously happy, yet he knew it wasn't real.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I think I'm the one that's dead now," she answered.

Rafael chuckled and leaned over her to turn off his lamp before lying back on the bed. "Get some sleep."

"You, too," she murmured.

"I'll manage."

He heard her rustling around in the dark, and then he sensed that she was looking at him. At least, the hairs on the nape of his neck prickled like they always did when she was near. He turned onto his side facing her and could just barely make out the side of her face in the moonlight. She looked adorably serious.

"While I'm coherent, Rafael, I just wanted to tell you..." She paused.

She was silent for so long that he started to wonder if she'd fallen asleep. "Yes?" he whispered.

"That was the hottest experience of my life," she said into the dark. She sounded genuine and earnest, and Rafael's pride swelled. Any doubts about what they'd just done together were gone. He hardly considered himself a prude, and yet what they'd shared so far this evening was completely different—and better—than anything else he'd ever done. He suspected it was because he'd done it with _her_ that made the difference.

"Mine, too," he said honestly. "But I'm sorry if I—"

One of her fingers landed on his lips. "No apologizing."

"But your lovely—" He tried to talk around her finger so she planted her whole hand over his mouth.

"It's fine," she said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. "What good is a little extra padding if it can't take some abuse?" she questioned, and then they both burst out laughing.

Once their amusement had died down, Rafael felt compelled to add, "You don't have extra padding. Your ass is perfection."

"I'm glad you think so." She sounded skeptical.

He decided to put all his cards on the table. "I always have."

He didn't have to see her to know she'd raised her eyebrows. "Always, Barba? That seems unlikely."

"From the first day I met you, Benson," he confirmed. "I thought it was going to make working with you extremely difficult."

Now she sat up and he could see her whole face in the moonlight coming from his window. "Well, I'm so sorry that working with me has been tough—"

"That's not what I said." He sat up as well. "Working with you has been an honor. I mean that." She sucked in a breath but he hurried on. "It hasn't always been easy, no. Especially not whenever you walk away from me and I have to watch your hips swaying as you go... And you do love to walk away from me, Olivia," he murmured, leaning closer to her. She seemed relatively aware at the moment, and he thought maybe they'd reached a point where they would kiss. It was getting harder and harder not to place his lips on hers while they had sex.

"I like to leave while I still have the upper hand," she joked, leaning forward too. She rested her forehead against his.

"You never have the upper hand," he pointed out, unable to help himself, and she whacked his shoulder before falling back on the bed.

"Alright, Mr. Ass-man, let's sleep." She patted the spot next to her and then rolled to her side, her back to him. "You're going to need the stamina more than me."

Rafael gazed down at her, disappointed she hadn't kissed him but also unwillingly intrigued by the challenge. He laid down as well, making sure they weren't touching at any point before pulling a blanket over them. If she wanted to sleep, he had to make sure there wasn't any physical contact, or else the PT-141 would take over sooner rather than later.

As he closed his eyes, Olivia already breathing steadily beside him, he could almost imagine things were going to stay this way forever.

* * *

As the night wore on, they dozed as best they could between bouts of Olivia's need. Any further conversation and foreplay fell by the wayside. When she needed him, she would touch his hip or his arm until he woke up. Without a word he would find her entrance and sink into her or, if his cock wasn't cooperating, he would shimmy further down on the bed and lick her until she came and they could sleep again. Over and over they went, all through the night, averaging twenty to forty minutes between joinings. At some point, they gave up on his carefully maintained boundary and slept entangled.

It was absolutely the best night of Rafael's life, and also the worst.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Olivia woke him with a hand on his chest. Automatically he reached for her clit and started to rub; he moved to get his mouth in position when she stopped him.

"Actually, I, um..." She trailed off, sounding unsure.

He assumed she wanted sex, instead, but he wasn't currently in a position to give it to her. "I'm sorry, Liv," he sighed. "I can't right now—"

"I know," she interrupted. Then she was silent. Rafael bit back his agitated retort—it wasn't her fault. He had to remember that. No matter how tired he was, he couldn't snap at her. Instead he simply waited her out.

She blew him away, however, when she finally announced, "I'd like to try the...toy." Her voice hitched on the last word.

"Ooookay," he said, pulling his hand off of her and sitting up. Now he was fully awake, all his senses firing on full cylinders. His cock gave a half-hearted twitch but he didn't need an erection right now—he had a substitute. Standing, he found the dildo on his dresser, and then he dug out some lubricant as well.

"Do you have an entire sex _drawer_?" Olivia asked, sounding both amused and horrified. And turned on. Couldn't forget that one.

"Only part," he answered. Then he looked at her. "Don't _you_?"

"You may have noticed I don't have time for a lot of action," she drawled.

He quirked an eyebrow even though he doubted she could see very well in the dark. "Pity," was all he said, and then he rejoined her on the bed. "You're going to like this, Liv. Just tell me if I'm going too fast."

She agreed but still sounded hesitant, so he set the dildo down on his side of the bed and bent to take one of her nipples in his mouth instead. His fingers played around her slick folds, teasing her by not concentrating on the one area he knew she wanted him most. Soon her body had lost the last bit of its tension, and she sighed as she threaded her hands into his hair, moving his mouth to her other breast. When she arched her back and tried to grind her mons against his hand, he decided she was ready.

He released her breasts and picked up the dildo, coating it with lube. He opted not to switch on the buzz feature—at least not yet. He gently stroked the tip of the dildo over her pussy, bringing it up to circle her clit. As she thrust her hips at it, he increased the pressure, sliding the length of it up and down over her clit. He watched, fascinated, as the bright purple contrasted with her dark curls, even in the dim lighting. He brought the dildo up to circle it over each of her nipples, and he watched her watch its progress. Her eyes were hungry, not scared, so he slipped it back down and poised it at the entrance to her vagina.

He used his free hand to gently stroke her clitoris while he worked the dildo into her, slowly. She needn't have worried, though—before long she was groaning and driving her hips up, trying to take more, to make him fuck her with it. So he obliged.

Rafael fucked her relentlessly with the dildo while her cries of pleasure echoed around the room. She came once, the first time he thrust the entire length inside her, and then she came again when he flipped the buzzing feature on. Since he was using his hands and not his own cock, he was able to keep his pace as steady and as firm as he wanted, for as long as he wanted. He counted at least three more orgasms before he bent to put his mouth over her clit. Olivia screamed his name as she arched nearly off the bed.

They both slept for over an hour afterwards.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks to all for the lovely reviews! I hate to tell you that I will be on vacation later this week and therefore will not be updating, but never fear, there are still a few chapters left in this story.**


	14. Chapter 14

When Rafael next awoke, it was with a huge grin on his face. The hour of sleep had gone a long way towards improving his outlook, but the primary reason for his smile was the hand he felt wrapped around his dick. Olivia was stroking him and, he was happy to report, his overused penis was responding. _Take that, Viagra_ , he thought. He didn't want her to stop what she was doing, so he kept his body still and cracked one eye open to watch her without being noticed.

Except that she was staring right at him.

"Good. You're awake." She released him and sat up, then gestured in the direction of his groin. "Are you..."

His happy mood deflated at the reminder that he was only here with her for one purpose, his own feelings and emotions be damned. "Am I what?" he asked, knowing he sounded churlish but unable to help himself.

"Are you, you know, ready?" She tried again. Under other circumstances, he would have laughed at how adorably uncomfortable she was, but at the moment, he just wanted to provoke her.

"Ready for breakfast? I sure am," he replied, rolling out of bed and reaching for his flannel pants. He heard Olivia make an aggravated sound behind him and he had to stifle his smile. "Oh, was there something you needed?" he asked in the sweetest, falsest voice he had.

"You know what I need," she grumbled. He straightened and looked at her. She was endearingly rumpled, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared him down.

"I'm afraid I don't. Not unless you tell me." He shrugged as if to say _What are you going to do?_ and then he headed for the door. "I do know that I could use some coffee, though. Can I get you anything?"

If possible, her glare turned even more lethal. " _Yes_ ," she hissed. "You could—you could get me off," she finally managed.

He tilted his head and pretended to consider it. "I could," he agreed. Then he felt an intense wickedness seep into him. "Or you could do it yourself." He nodded towards the dildo, now laying innocently on his nightstand.

Olivia spluttered. Rafael took pity on her and came back to the bed, leaning down to whisper into her ear. "I'm not doing a damn thing to your lovely body until I've had some coffee, so if you're in need, _querida_ , you'll just have to handle it."

He grinned the whole way into the kitchen.

* * *

After taking his time with his coffee, however, Rafael realized he owed her an apology. Withholding her release simply because he was grouchy about their circumstances was beneath him, and wholly unfair to her. So he put his mug in the sink and returned to his bedroom, fully intending to grovel at her feet for his insensitivity.

But the sight that greeted him brought him to his knees—literally. When he saw her sprawled on his bed, doing herself firmly and methodically with the purple dildo, he dropped to the ground. "Jesus, Liv," he gasped.

She turned towards him, and the look in her eyes was nothing short of victorious. She brought her free hand up to her mouth, licked her fingers, and then used them to tweak at one of her nipples. Rafael's erection returned with a ferocity that physically hurt. Still on his knees, he edged closer to the bed. "I swear you're going to kill me," he muttered, and she laughed. "I deserve it," he went on, "and I came in here to tell you I was sorry, but now..." He reached the bed and looked up at her face. "Now I think I'll show you how sorry I am, instead."

Her smile faded, replaced by a look of pure hunger. Rafael pushed her thighs further apart and bent his head to her clit. He lapped at her while she faltered with the dildo. He increased the pressure of his tongue on her clit, and then he wrapped one hand around her wrist and helped her fuck herself with the toy. Olivia started moaning and Rafael sped up. Then he used his free hand to pinch her nipple, the same one she'd so nicely prepped for him. Her hips rolled against his mouth, and it was all Rafael could do to keep his focus on the tasks at hand.

When she cried her release, Rafael removed his hands from her body and sat back on his heels. Olivia continued to lazily penetrate herself with the dildo, but she was watching him with an avid expression. He stood and shucked off his pajama pants. His cock was painfully hard after so many rounds of being unable to attain an erection. He and Olivia both stared down at it.

"Well then," she said, and then she removed the dildo and tossed it behind her.

One corner of his mouth twisted wryly. "I fear you'll be disappointed by me after _that_ ," he said before he could bite the words back. Granted, he considered his dick above-average, but he certainly didn't have a convenient vibration feature.

Olivia smirked at him. "You'll just have to make up for it with enthusiasm," she said.

Rafael liked to think that he did. He certainly tried. He climbed atop her and slid inside with one smooth stroke. He kept a steady pace even though she clawed at his backside, begging him to hurry up. Then, before he got too close, he pulled out and tugged her upright, pulling her with him back to the wall. Again he set them on a steady rhythm despite her protests, and again he switched things up when he neared his own climax. He pulled out and changed their positions every time he neared the point of no return. He was practically giving himself a case of blue balls, but he bit the inside of his cheek and carried on. He didn't want her to find him lacking, after all.

Finally he bent her over and placed her hands on his headboard. He took his place behind her and knew this would be the way he finished. Olivia's hands tightened on the rail as Rafael grasped her hips in both hands. "Ready?" he murmured, to her or himself he wasn't sure. She didn't answer, but then, she'd lost her ability to speak coherently two positions ago. He braced one foot on the mattress, angling himself just so, and then he pistoned into her as fast as he was able for the handful of seconds that it took him to come.

As much as he wanted to remain buried to the hilt inside her, he was exhausted from their exertions and he flopped onto the bed immediately after. Olivia slithered down beside him, her limbs equally as limp. " _Fuck_ ," she muttered, then she yawned and promptly fell asleep.

"Fuck, indeed," he sighed, and then he draped his arm around her waist and followed her into slumber.

* * *

 **A/N: I have returned!**


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